


Concussion

by mozzarellastyx



Series: Spideypool Drabbles [2]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Fighting Crime, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, lol is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozzarellastyx/pseuds/mozzarellastyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade's reminded of how much Peter means to him. Then Wade reminds Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concussion

He watches as Peter falls.

He's probably blacked out by now. After all, Tombstone had pretty much been beating the shit out of him when Wade had finally found them on the roof. As soon as Tombstone had seen him, he’d flung Peter off the edge, nasty grin curling the edges of his lips.

As Wade jumps, there’s really only one thing going through his head: Peter. Later, he’ll look back and realize there was probably a better way to go about it, but right now he has only one mission and that's to save Peter.

He dives head first, trying to gain some ground (air?) on Peter before he lands. His life flashes before his eyes. Not the shit he’s already lived through, no. He pictures what his life will be like, without Peter. He sees himself sitting alone on their plastic-covered couch, sees himself reverting back to his mercenary ways, sees generations and generations go by without him meeting another person quite like Peter.

He stretches out and grabs hold of Peter's arm, pulling him tight to his own body, curled up in his chest. They fall together, and he knows there’s wind blowing past them but Wade’s kind of lost his sense of hearing at the moment. There’s just a deafening pounding in his ears as his fingers grope Peter’s wrist.

He finds the release button and nudges it with a finger. Webbing shoots out and sticks to the ledge of a window. Except—webbing won’t stop coming out, so it’s doing nothing to slow them down. Wade has no hope of figuring out the damn contraption, so he wraps his hand around the webbing and swings them to the side of the building. He uses his feet to try and slow their descent, scraping the bottoms of his shoes along the brick siding.

They’re nearing the ground but are still moving too fast (Wade knows this from his many broken legs over the years). With a deep breath and a grunt of “maximum effort,” Wade kicks through a window and sends them tumbling onto the floor inside.

Luckily Tombstone picked an abandoned warehouse to set his trap up on, so no one else is harmed as the two of them roll across the splintering wood flooring. Wade thinks he might’ve broken his arm, but he just lays there, hugging Peter tight to his chest as he catches his breath.

Eventually he gets up, groaning from the ache in his muscles and, fuck, yeah, he definitely broke his arm in at least one spot. Peter’s still breathing, though, which Wade counts as a success as he hauls the boy up on his shoulder and makes his way out onto the street.

Peter wakes up about half way home and freaks out, thrashing and pounding on Wade’s back.

“Chill, Webhead,” Wade sighs, his grip around Peter’s waist tightening.

“What happened?” Peter asks, panicked. “Did—Tombstone—I don’t—”

“Seriously, Peter, pop a Xanax or something,” Wade grumbles. “You’re stressing me out.”

“Tell me what happened,” Peter demands, thrashing again.

“Tombstone beat the shit out of you and tossed you off a building,” Wade explains like he read it in the news. “Luckily, I got there just in time to be your knight in shining armor. Well, I guess this suit isn’t really that shiny—”

“So you let him get away?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you die,” Wade mentions with a loose eye roll. “If anyone gets to kill you it should be me, really. I have to put up with the most—”

“We have to go get him,” Peter decides, trying to shimmy out of Wade’s grasp. “He could be—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Wade tells him. “Tombstone doesn’t even know we both made it out alive. He won’t be looking for us today.”

“But civilians—”

“He’s not interested in them,” Wade sighs. “You know that, Peter. He used you to get to me, and once he finds out we’re still alive he’ll come bother us again. But, until then, you need to rest.”

Peter stops resisting, slumping on Wade’s shoulder. “I hate when you’re right.”

“I know.”

Once Wade kicks open the door to their place, he doesn’t even stop to drop Peter off on the couch, as they usually do when one has to drag the other home. He instead carries him all the way to their bedroom, where he lets Peter slide off his shoulder and onto the unmade bed.

“It’s really stupid that we live together,” Peter mumbles, tugging his mask off tiredly. “Like, it would be so easy for someone like Tombstone to knock us both out at once if he found us here.”

“Thought all super heroes lived together,” Wade says, kicking off his boots. “Like, isn’t Stark Tower just a dry orgy of shriveled up super heroes that call working for SHIELD their ‘glory days’?”

That puts a small smile on Peter’s lips.

“Plus, don’t get me started on baldy’s school,” Wade continues, tugging off his uniform. “Like, do the words ‘low profile’ mean anything to him?”

Peter snorts out a little laugh, and Wade smiles as he crawls up the bed to join him.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” Peter asks, turning to face Wade.

“Later,” Wade shrugs. “For now I just want to annoy you.”

“Shut up,” Peter laughs before kissing him.

It’s slow, tender. Wade savors the taste of Peter on his lips, remembering how it felt to watch his lifeless form fall.

Peter lets out a whine as Wade pulls back.

“You almost died today,” Wade says, blinking at Peter.

“I almost die every day,” Peter mumbles, eyes half closed as he leans in again.

“But you came really close today,” Wade continues, pushing himself on top of Peter.

Peter drops his head to the pillow. “What’re you trying to get at, Wade?”

“I…don’t really know,” he admits. “Just that—I love you, I guess. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when you actually die.”

“Wade,” Peter sighs, brushing Wade’s cheek with a thumb. “Can we just be thankful that we’re both here? I don’t need to constantly be reminded of my own mortality. And I don’t like picturing you all alone. Who’s going to feed the cat?”

“When you die, that cat—which I assume will still be alive because I’m pretty sure it’s one of those immortal hell cats—will end up on the street where it belongs.”

Peter frowns. “Promise me you’ll take care of Tiger.”

“I promise you that cat will get what it deserves.”

“You’re infuriating,” Peter grumbles before bringing him in for another kiss.

Peter smells like shit, which means Wade must smell about ten times worse than that. Maybe he should’ve taken a shower first, but he can’t really think about that now because Peter’s starting to whimper underneath him, gripping at the waistband of Wade’s boxers.

“So needy,” Wade murmurs against Peter’s neck as the other boy gasps for a breath.

“Please,” Peter whines, voice hitching as Wade’s teeth graze over the purpling bruise he left on Peter’s neck.

“Please what?”

“Fuck you,” Peter grumbles, grip on Wade’s hips tightening.

“Fuck me? I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

Peter rolls them over in one motion, straddling Wade’s hips. His lips find Wade’s again, more aggressive this time, and Wade suspects this is just to get Wade to shut up. Wade’s hands make their way under Peter’s briefs to grip his cheeks, pulling him forward as Peter grinds down on Wade’s fattening dick.

“I’m dizzy,” Peter mutters against Wade’s cheek.

“I know, it’s pretty good, right?”

“No, like, I’m dizzy,” Peter repeats, sliding off Wade and holding his forehead.

Wade sits up immediately, helping Peter lie back on the pillow. “Rest, then. I’ll go get the Cheetos—”

“No,” Peter reaches out to stop him. “Still want to finish.”

“You sure?”

Peter nods, chest heaving with breaths.

“Okay, baby,” Wade murmurs, dragging Peter’s briefs slowly down the boy’s thighs. His eyes flicker up to see Peter biting his lip, heavy eyes fluttering closed. Wade presses kisses down Peter’s abdomen, flexed in anticipation, across his hip bones and lower to his lean thighs. He allows himself a few bites on the soft inside of Peter’s thighs before brushing a kiss to his hard length.

“Right to it, tonight,” Peter grunts, panting. “Need you in me.”

Wade nods silently, nudging two fingers into Peter’s mouth. He raises Peter’s legs, allowing him to wrap his arms around them to hold them up as Wade views his tight, pert hole. He slips his slick fingers from Peter’s mouth and presses one to the bundle of muscles, feeling them relax enough for Wade’s finger to push past.

“Relax,” Wade whispers, rubbing a soothing hand over Peter’s thigh.

Peter nods obediently, blowing a steady breath out. A second finger joins the first, pushing in and out at an achingly slow pace that has Peter’s brow furrowed.

“Doing good,” Wade encourages, sliding a hand up to give Peter’s cock a few slow tugs.

“Well,” Peter breathes, voice tight.

Wade snorts. “Really?”

Peter peeks an eye open and gives Wade a grin, but then Wade scissors his fingers and Peter’s mouth drops open in a moan. Wade can’t help but smirk.

Peter whimpers when Wade pulls out to snatch a condom (ribbed, for her pleasure) from the nightstand. Peter watches with dilated pupils as Wade rolls it on, giving his own sorry cock a few sympathy tugs before lining up.

Peter sucks in a breath as Wade pushes in, working slowly until he bottoms out.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes, releasing his legs so they can rest on Wade’s shoulders. Wade’s hands find their way around Peter’s thighs as he thrusts slowly, wanting to feel every bit of Peter.

“So gorgeous, baby,” Wade murmurs, brushing hair off of Peter’s forehead. “You look so good taking all of me.”

Peter just groans in response, eyes blinking open to look at Wade in desperation.

“Faster,” he begs, gripping Wade’s wrists for stability, security.

Wade obeys, thrusting with a bit more speed and less depth. He leans down to kiss Peter again, folding his legs to his chest. His lips are cherry red and slick against Wade’s. He drags Peter’s bottom lip out with his teeth, feeling Peter tighten around him in response.

“God, Wade,” Peter cries, eyes screwed shut.

“Can you ride me, baby?” Wade wonders, stroking a finger over his cheek.

Peter nods fervently, reaching up to wrap his arms around Wade's neck so Wade can help him up. His legs lock around Wade's waist as he grinds forward.

"Nope, nope,” Peter says, eyes squeezed closed.

Wade swiftly lays him back down, watching as he relaxes into the pillow. “Better?”

Peter just nods, hands hanging onto Wade's biceps. 

Wade continues to thrust into him, a little dizzy himself from how tight Peter is around his cock, how he looks so beautiful underneath him, so blissfully fucked. He slows, taking nice longs drags and feeling Peter vibrate with moans.

“Are you gonna come untouched, baby?” Wade wonders, voice hoarse.

“Fuck, Wade.” Peter starts gripping at any part of Wade he can find.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Wade grins, surging forward to thrust deeper, deeper. He cages Peter's head with his arms and presses a small kiss to the boy’s nose before fucking into him, hips snapping at a faster rate now.

“I love you,” Wade breathes into Peter's neck. 

He's not sure if it’s his words that push him over the edge or what, but soon Peter’s coming, untouched, between their bodies. He's silent, mouth dropped open as he squeezes around Wade's dick. Wade's not far behind, pushing himself in far with a groan and pulsing inside. 

Somehow in his post-orgasmic haze, Wade's lips find Peter's, tiredly brushing past each other in a half-hearted kiss. Wade waits until they've both fully come down before pulling out and tossing the condom to deal with…later.

“Think you can make it to the shower?” Wade wonders, hanging on Peter like a koala.

Peter shakes his head. “Later. Need a tissue.”

Wade leans over to grab him one and lets Peter wipe come off of himself. He tosses the tissue and sighs, body visibly deflating.

“I think I have a concussion,” Peter mumbles, frowning. He brings a hand to his forehead.

“Nothing a good orgasm can't fix,” Wade reminds with a grin, snuggling into Peter's side once more.

Peter lets out a tired laugh at that, staring up at the ceiling. Wade presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“So, uh, are those Cheetos still up for grabs?”


End file.
